The Levant Rothschild, Tel Aviv

We arrived mid-morning, when Rothschild Boulevard is at its best, joggers and dog-walkers under the ficus trees, cyclists gliding down the central greenway, the smell of good coffee from every corner kiosk. The Levant Rothschild occupies a 1930s Bauhaus block, one of the thousands that earned this city its White City name, restored to its original cream render, ribbon windows and gently curved balconies. The lobby was small, bright and almost austere in the best Tel Aviv way: terrazzo floor, a single Eames-era armchair, a vase of eucalyptus. A barista-receptionist made us a flat white before we had finished checking in. The light, even indoors, had that clean Mediterranean clarity.

The room

Our room honoured the building's modernist bones: white walls, a floor of pale terrazzo, a curved balcony just deep enough for two chairs over the boulevard's green spine. The design was disciplined and warm, bleached oak, a single mid-century pendant, linen the colour of sand, with nothing superfluous. The ribbon window wrapped the corner, flooding the room with that famous Tel Aviv light and a cross-breeze off the sea three blocks west. The bathroom was compact but immaculate, walled in small white tile with a powerful rain shower and local olive-oil soap. We took our coffee on the balcony each morning, watching the boulevard come to life below, the ficus canopy rustling, the city unhurried and bright.

The White City built these curves to catch the sea breeze, and ninety years on the trick still works.The Suite Edit

Service & food

Service is relaxed, friendly and refreshingly unstuffy, very Tel Aviv, the staff treating you like a clued-in friend rather than a guest to be managed. The ground-floor café spills onto the boulevard and serves all day: shakshuka in a cast-iron pan, sabich stuffed with fried aubergine and amba, tahini-rich salads and excellent coffee. Up top, a small rooftop plunge pool and bar catch the afternoon sun, the cocktails sharp and the arak-based ones worth ordering. Breakfast is generous, Israeli and largely vegetarian, the labneh and the warm bread especially good. Dinner means stepping out, but with Neve Tzedek, the Carmel Market and the beach all within a walk, that is no hardship at all.

The verdict

The Levant Rothschild is for the design-literate traveller who wants to live inside Tel Aviv's Bauhaus story rather than read about it on a walking tour, with the beach, the boulevard and the city's best brunches all on foot. The restoration is sensitive, the light is glorious and the location is close to perfect. The honest caveat is space: these 1930s buildings were not designed for grand rooms, and the standard doubles, while beautifully done, are genuinely compact, with storage to match. Travellers who want to spread out should book a corner room or a suite; everyone else will happily trade the square metres for the address and the curves.